


As Vast as the Sky

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, and i'll write it if the show won't give it to me, season 6, stuff i want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6557080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he saw was her blue eyes, standing out in stark relief from the snow white pillow case beneath her head. “Daryl?” That soft utterance of his name was all she could manage. But he knew, as he always did, what she was asking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Leigh57 and faith5by5-1013 are sweethearts who encouraged my bad habits so I'm dedicating this to them. Hugs, lovelies.

 

 

The group that staggered away from that clearing bore little resemblance to those who had been herded there mere hours before. Spent physically and emotionally, they gathered their wounded and their dead and made for the sanctuary of Hilltop. They needed time to rest. They hoped to heal. They prayed for the opportunity to mourn.

Gregory didn’t welcome them warmly. He shook his head, calling for the doctor in one breath and then wondering aloud how quickly Negan’s wrath would befall them for taking in Rick’s group. It fell to Jesus to provide a buffer, directing the wounded to their makeshift infirmary while offering rooms for the others to clean up and refresh themselves. Those that were able brushed aside the offer of hospitality in lieu of shovels and a plot of ground in the small cemetery. The goodbyes, of necessity, had to come first.

Solemn faces and reddened eyes hallmarked those gathered around the wounded square of earth where they laid him to rest. Rick stepped forward to say a few words but his throat seized up, tears overflowing as he tried to fight through. Michonne came to his side, twined her arm through his as she buried her face in his shoulder, and then led him back to where Carl waited. The beaten leader bowed his head and quietly cried.

Daryl, his wounded shoulder sporting a hasty bandage, took the shovel with his good hand and motioned for the others to lower the body into the grave.  As soon as it was done, he braced his foot on the shoulder and sunk the blade deep before dropping the first spade full into the hole. He then passed the tool to Rosita and took a step back, watching as each took their turn. The Hilltop group stayed respectfully back until they were done before Jesus approached.

“Everett is a talented woodcarver. He’ll make a marker, anything you want. Just let him know what you decide.”

Rick thanked him and then requested to speak with Gregory and a few of the others at their earliest opportunity.

“Can I ask why?” Jesus asked, knowing Hilltop’s leader would insist on knowing everything before agreeing to such a meeting.

“We can’t do this alone,” Rick admitted. “Alexandria and Hilltop don’t have enough firepower to defeat the Saviors alone. We need allies. I need to know who they are and where to find them.”

                            ********************************************

“They call it the Kingdom,” Jesus announced. “The leader, Ezekiel, is…well…we might be able to get you an introduction. I can’t promise more than that.”

“Do they pay tribute to the Saviors?” Michonne chimed in. “And will they fight if we put it to them the right way?”

This time, Jesus could only shrug but Gregory anted up. “We are the proverbial ant to the Saviors’ grasshopper. The trading partners cannot continue to stand divided and hope to get out from under Negan’s thumb. It will be a difficult task to bind us together. Hilltop will do our part, of course, if terms can be met. Jesus will go with you to facilitate the first meeting and to assure our interests. I will need to know what you plan to offer and I must be frank, fifty percent of your produce won’t be enough. Not for this.”

That brought a narrow eyed glare from Rick as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and carefully spread it out. “We have an ace up our sleeve that could make this whole thing go the way we want. I’ll go to the Kingdom to meet this Ezekiel. Sasha and Daryl will go with me. Jesus can bring you back the specifics of our offer unless you want to go along and hear it firsthand.” Gregory protested but Rick ignored him as he turned to Michonne. “I need you to take Carl and the others back to Alexandria. They need to know what happened and we need to be ready for the first shipment. He’ll be there to collect. We have to be ready.”  She nodded, her drawn expression morphing into her usual readiness.  Seeing that, Rick brightened and seemed to take strength from it. “Daryl, you good, brother?”  He wasn’t surprised at all when the hunter nodded. “We’ll leave at first light.”

                **********************************************

The first face they saw after coming through the gate was a familiar one. Morgan smiled when he saw them, coming forward to clasp Daryl’s hand and then to give Rick a backslapping hug. “It’s good to see you. Yeah, she’s here in the infirmary. I’ll fill you in after I take him over. Has something happened? I’ll find you after you meet Ezekiel.”

                      *****************************************

The first thing he saw was her blue eyes, standing out in stark relief from the snow white pillow case beneath her head. Bruises covered the side of her face and bandages encircled her arm and who knew what else beneath the sheet. Those eyes widened when they fell on him, filled to the brim with tears that pooled at the corners and then ran over. She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped when she really saw him. The ivory pale cheeks lightened even more when she put it all together and came up with what he didn’t want to say aloud. 

“What happened?”  Her voice was raspy from disuse, rough and ragged with exhaustion and pain. “Who did we lose?”

He didn’t answer as he shambled closer and propped himself up on the corner of her bed. She gasped when his coat fell aside revealing his heavily wrapped shoulder. But what tied a knot in her tongue was the desolation she saw on his face. Gray beneath his tan with sweat matted hair sticking to his forehead; he looked like he’d been up for days. 

His mouth twisted into a thin white line as he listed, barely able to stay on the bed. Carol put a hand on his leg to steady him, and then hissed through her teeth as a lightning strike pierced her side. Broken ribs combined with a hand’s length gash violently protested any movement. She saw his eyes narrow at her wince but shook her head, waving it aside as if it were nothing. 

“What happened?” She repeated. “Are you okay?”  His mute, negative head shake cut her to the quick. Just as she’d feared, something had slipped in and taken one of their own and she hadn’t been there to prevent it. 

“Where’re you hurt?” He could barely speak, stopping every other syllable to swallow noisily. Her hand left him only to grab her water glass. She let out a little groan with the movement but didn’t quit until he held the glass and had taken a long, slow sip. “Where’re you hurt?” He asked again. 

“It doesn’t matter, Daryl. I’m fine. Were you shot? What...” 

“The Saviors happened and Negan.  They caught us out on the road. It was bad.” He glanced down at his shoulder and then away. “There was too many of them and with this, wouldn’t much that I could do. Dunno how they got to the others but Michonne, Glenn and Rosita came out looking for me.” Guilt surged into his expression, briefly overtaking the pain. “Musta left right after you.”

The unspoken question hung heavy in the air between them. She didn’t press it and neither did he. She drew his attention to the bandage encircling her arm. “Same here,” she confided. “Had a gun sewed into my coat sleeve but I missed one. He found me later.” Her knee bobbed underneath the sheet. “Here too.”

“The fucker shot you,” he growled. “Dammit, Carol, you coulda…”

“But I didn’t!” She cut him short because she couldn’t stand it, the not knowing. Carol had to hear the name, allow herself to feel it, to say her goodbye to another one loved and then lost. “Daryl?” That soft utterance of his name was all she could manage. But he knew, as he always did, what she was asking.

His answer was slow in coming but in the end, he didn’t deny her. He never had and he wasn’t about to start now. “Glenn.” God, it ached to say it out loud. It made it real and it hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut against it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”  That revelation pushed aside whatever barriers remained between them. She fell into him, arms twining around his waist and her face tucked into the curve of his shoulder. He rested his cheek atop her head and allowed himself to break. Finally.  

Too many lost.

So many pieces of themselves sacrificed.

 Only to be reforged. Remade.

_You’re every bit as good as them.  
You don’t have to. YOU don’t._

_Everything now just consumes you.  
We ain’t ashes._

_Man, that’s her but that ain’t her.  
I can’t let myself but you, I know you. You have to let yourself feel it._

Through everything, no matter what…it always came back around to them, to him and her and the inexplicable tie between them.

The first brush of their lips burned like fire, searing deep, thawing the ice she’d swathed herself in to try to feel numb. It surged through her, bringing her back to aching, shivering life. Her sobs wracked her throat like glass shards but buried within that torrent of sadness and guilt was the smallest thread of laughter. His fingers trailed down her cheeks, cupping her chin as he lifted it to better feast on her mouth, like a man seeing water in the desert after weeks of doing without. And he drank deep. He gave as much as he took and she drowned in a love as infinite and vast as the sky.


	2. chapter 2

 

She woke with the rising sun and the steady thump-thud of his heart beat in her ear. Half convinced it was a dream, a beautiful idyll she had no wish to ever leave, she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in soft flannel and warm skin. He didn’t move except to pull her closer, his hand splayed on the small of her back.

Slivers of pain, hot and strident, sizzled in the wounds on her arm and leg and tugged her closer to consciousness but she ignored it. She’d waited so long to wake up in his arms that actually experiencing it was terrifying. It was safer to stay where she was, content and still, listening to him breathe and savoring the feel of him. She didn’t want to think about what would come after.

The Saviors were out there and eventually, it would come down to a fight. More people would die, her family and those she called friends. Maybe him. Maybe her. It was bound to happen eventually. Her fingers found his resting on her belly and slid in between. She wanted to weep as he reflexively tightened his grip.

God help her but she didn’t know if she had it in her to leave him again. It was like he could read her mind because he edged ever closer and whispered in a voice still heavy with sleep, “Ain’t got no place to be just yet.”

He was slack and loose behind her, relaxed in a way she’d rarely seen him, so she let herself drift. Knots untied. Maybe it was foolish to stay here, wrapped up in him, while telling herself it didn’t have to be tomorrow yet. If that was so, then a fool she would be.

The pale gold light of morning had deepened to a ripe midday by the time her eyes opened again. She blinked and then again before looking up into deep, drowsy blue.

“Bout time,” he drawled. “Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.”

Carol snorted before she caught herself, her lips turning up at the sideways tilt of his mouth even though he tried to suppress it. How long had it been since she’d seen it, since they’d allowed themselves a a moment of joy and the simple pleasure of shared laughter? He still had circles under his eyes and a tautness in his face that hinted at the pain he no doubt felt. Despite that, a shadow of a smile lingered at the edges of his mouth and it was him that initiated the gentle kiss that brought her fully awake.

Their first kiss had been full of grief and consolation. Everything they’d lost, all they’d sacrificed, made it more bitter than sweet but the revelation that he loved her as much as she loved him was everything. She savored the butterfly touches, the still unexpected softness of his lips, the prickle of his scruff against her palms when she cupped his chin.

“You should’ve woke me up,” she mumbled in between playful pecks that seemed so out of character for the two of them. “The others are probably wondering where you…”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled, chasing her mouth to try to deepen the kiss.

They weren’t ready for where this was headed. The warmth pooling in her belly was tempered by the flickers of agony from her wounds. Carol couldn’t contain the hiss that escaped her when his leg pushed between hers, inadvertently brushing the bandage around her thigh.

“Oh shit,” he immediately rolled away from her and huddled on the edge of the bed, a familiar tight lipped expression clouding his face. It broadcast guilt and doubt like a beacon. “Sorry. I’m…fuck…I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” she assured him as she motioned for him to come back. “You could never. I know that.”

She took his hand, hating the slight tremble she felt even in her loose hold. She watched his face as she laid his hand on her thigh just above the bandage, the way his eyes narrowed and the anxious little huff his breath made. He was wound tight again, the relaxation from earlier vanished like mist in the sun.

Raising her hand to his cheek, she traced the contours of his face from brow to chin. She rested her palm on the curve of his jaw, her thumb outlining the bow of his lip. The other found his shoulder, light and careful as she sketched the edges of the linen bandage barely visible under his sleeveless shirt. He took the hint, as she knew he would, for his fingers made feathery circles on the tender skin of her leg.

Daryl moved up her body until he grasped the hem of her shirt, waiting for her nod before he lifted it up until the shallow wound along her ribs came into view. It was an angry red, swollen and tight where it arced up her side. He didn’t say a word as he shifted his attention to her gauze wrapped arm.

Looking for a way to break the silence, she opened her mouth to speak but held her tongue when he shook his head. He proceeded from her new injuries to the older, faded scars she’d kept hidden. Small pink circles dotted the small of her back, courtesy of Ed. A thin white line just below her belly button marked Sophia’s entrance into the world as much as the half moons in her palms marked her baby’s exit.

“You don’t gotta say why you left,” he whispered. Blue eyes flicked up and then away. She already knew what he was about to say so she braced herself “But I have to know if you’re gonna stay.”

“I want to.” Tears reduced him to a hazy blur at the edge of her vision. Her soft spoken admission surprised her. As much as she knew she couldn’t bring herself to kill, it was even harder to imagine walking away again.

He let out a breath before letting loose a rare full smile as he urged her back into the circle of his arms. “Well you can.”


End file.
